<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>something to believe in by cress_ent</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28523568">something to believe in</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cress_ent/pseuds/cress_ent'>cress_ent</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Character Study, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Weddings, but pre-george's dethroning, despite it being a wedding, it also looks a lot at diff characters, or in which i rework the wedding vid to be more true to the dream smp lore while also being happier, post-tommy's exile, wedding retcon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:42:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,111</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28523568</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cress_ent/pseuds/cress_ent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>fundy’s favourite thing, he thinks, about the dress that dream picked out, and all the accessories and additions, is the veil that drapes delicately over his face. they tested it — opaque enough that the audience won’t be able to see, but translucent enough that fundy can. can see every nervous, open expression, every laugh, every freckle. it feels — special. exclusive. the way he laughs when he’s unsure, the dimple that grows on his left cheek with every smile. it’s just for him. like a secret whispered between them, sweet words exchanged between sweet lovers.</p><p>he loves him. (and for once, he’s sure he’s loved back.)</p><p>-</p><p>or, in which the fundy and dream wedding goes well, despite the complexity of all the politics that should render their union impossible.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound, Floris | Fundy &amp; TommyInnit, Floris | Fundy &amp; Wilbur Soot, dnf is unrequited/one-sided at this point</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>250</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>something to believe in</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>// obligatory  "this is about the characters they play in the dream smp lore and not the actual people" disclaimer</p><p>// [dream voice] According to AO3 Statistics, only a small percentage of my readers actually leave kudos and comments. So if you end up liking this fic, please consider leaving a kudos or comment - it's free, and you can always remove it later if you change your mind. Enjoy the fic.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>save the date!<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em></em>
    <span>the union of fundy soot-live and dream</span><br/>
<em>
    <span>where: the holy lands<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em></em>
  <span>requirements: no weapons, no politics, no plus-ones. formal dress!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“dream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“wh— george, you aren’t supposed to be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>george leans against the doorframe. the glasses normally sat upon the bridge of his nose are pushed up to rest on the top of his head. he’s got a suit on, but the jacket is unbuttoned, the shirt rumpled, the bowtie untied, ends hanging loose around his neck. “i know,” he says, and the lilt of how the words fall out of his mouth is oh so familiar. “i know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“i don’t even have my veil on—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“oh, as if that’s ever mattered with me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>he’s right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>dream hates that he’s right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>he turns. his dress turns with him, he never thought he’d be here (in a wedding dress) (at a wedding) (ring on his finger) (love in his heart) but he’s glad he’s here. he regards george. “what do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“no — what do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>george is — for lack of better words — a dramatic bitch. dream knows this. he loves it and he absolutely hates it at the same fucking time. george tilts his chin up, and stares dream down coolly, and he asks again. “what do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“i want— i want to have my fucking wedding, george—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>dream laughs (bitterly) (sweetly) (resentfully) and he stands up to face george properly, taking two steps towards him as he says, “yes! yes, george, i want to have my fucking wedding, and i want you to go away so i can finish getting ready, and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>george closes the distance between them, and dream doesn’t (can’t) (</span>
  <span>won’t</span>
  <span>) step away. he looks up at dream, and dream recognizes the look in his eyes, “dream,” and george leans towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“no.” he steps away. he knows what george was looking for. “george, i — no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“no?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>dream looks at him, a few steps away, (the distance feels so much larger than just a few steps). “</span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>. i can’t. it’s my </span>
  <em>
    <span>wedding</span>
  </em>
  <span>, george, and i’m not getting married to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>a thousand emotions flash across george’s face, quicker than dream can pick up on. it ends on something he would describe as resentful, maybe. (maybe sad. maybe angry. he’s never been the best at reading people, not in this way.) "why?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"i-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"why him. why not me.” his tone shifts from resentful to angry. “we had so much together, dream-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"because!” and dream doesn’t want to yell, but something he’s noticed since he started being around fundy more is that he can say that he feels things more. anger, yeah, but — more. warmth. and he’s yelling at george before he can even stop himself. “because, george, because we weren't good together. we never were. we had a past, and we had </span>
  <em>
    <span>memories</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and that was about it. we were never in love, we just liked to think we were." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"we </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span> in lo-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"we were </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> in love.” dream’s sure of this, if not anything else. “fundy showed me what love is. what we had wasn't anything close to that." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>george seems to slump over a little, defeated. "and — him?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"i love him." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>there’s a pause before george speaks again. "and you never loved me?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>dream doesn’t hesitate before he answers. "i have never felt before what i've felt for fundy." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>they stand there. (so close.) (so far.) george can’t meet dream’s eyes. neither of them speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>he hesitates now, breaking the silence. "george?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"okay." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"okay?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>george lets out a sigh. "okay. i get it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>he turns to leave, leaving dream alone in the room. george looks back, quickly. there’s a glimmer of something in his eyes — maybe friendship. it feels like so long ago since they’ve ever been just friends. "and — good luck."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“fundy, i— i wanted to thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>there are bags under tommy’s eyes and a bruise on his cheek and his hands are calloused, and cold, and shaking. there are tears in his clothes — he hasn’t changed into his suit yet — and there is a strange emptiness in his eyes. but there’s genuine gratitude in his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“thank me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“i mean, i’m guessing you’re the one who pushed so hard to let me come back for the wedding, because dream sure fucking wouldn’t do that on his own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>fundy can’t help but laugh; things have been quieter since tommy was exiled, and not always in a good way. “yeah — yeah. took a lot of convincing, but — i’m glad he listened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“he listens to you, i’m noticing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“does he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“well. as long as it doesn’t have to do with the discs or l’manberg, he listens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>tommy seems a lot more flighty and fidgety since fundy’s last seen him. it’s been, what — a week? two? his eyes flicker around the room, nervously, gripping the small satchel in his hands tighter and closer, as if someone will take it from him. fundy’s gone to visit, once or twice — his duties in l’manberg keep him from visiting more — and he’s not sure he likes how tommy’s changed in the meantime, out in isolation with no one but his brother’s ghost. but he can’t really do anything about it. “i— i mean it, though. thank you. i wasn’t sure—” tommy lets out a laugh, and it’s dry and bitter. “wasn’t sure i’d be able to come back, ever. i missed it here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“we missed you, too, tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“oh, come on, dream told me l’manberg’s been more peaceful since i left, you can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span>—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“i mean it!” tommy raises a single eyebrow in doubt. “i do! look, you didn’t hear it from me, but—” and fundy looks to the side, tommy following his gaze to look at tubbo, who’s smiling and laughing as he talks to ranboo and quackity, “ — tubbo’s missed you a lot, tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>tommy doesn’t say anything, just looks over at tubbo with tired eyes. “has he.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>he clearly doesn’t believe fundy; fundy doesn’t know what else he can say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“you should come visit, soon.” tommy says. it sounds more like a plea than a suggestion. “dream wouldn’t do shit to stop you. and — it’s a little lonely out there, i’ll say that much. no one but me and my brother’s ghost!” tommy lets out a laugh, but it’s bitter and desperate. fundy’s heart physically aches — he wishes there was something more he could do. but dream had wanted him gone, and tubbo had wanted to keep their nation safe, and fundy never had enough political power to do or say anything that mattered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“if i can get away, it’ll be the first place i’ll visit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“promise?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>tommy doesn’t even look hopeful as he asks this. just tired. just as though he’s already seen one too many promises get broken right in front of him, and can’t even bring himself to consider that maybe this time, things will go according to plan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>fundy has to be able to do this for him. (what would happen, if he can’t — he doesn’t even want to think about it. not when tommy’s already so gaunt, when the brightness of his eyes has already begun to fade.) “promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>a small smile makes its way across tommy’s face, and it feels genuine. fundy wonders how long it’s been since tommy last smiled like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“now, what’s this about me being the flower boy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“dream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“oh — sapnap!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>he looks nervous, a little confused. “i’m supposed to be here now, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“yeah! yeah— yeah, uh—” normally there’s a whole bridal party that gets ready with the bride. normally it isn’t the solemn, lonely affair it’s been for dream so far. normally— (maybe he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> alone) (he’d never say that aloud) “yeah. we can — i mean, i’d say get ready together, but there’s not really much i can do that i haven’t already, so. we can wait together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>sapnap’s smiles always start out hesitant, as if he’s unsure about whether or not he’s allowed to, but it isn’t long before he’s grinning at dream, and dream smiles back. “your dress is really nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>dream looks down at his dress — he’s really happy with what he ended up picking, actually. the skirt of the dress starts at his waist, blossoming out into a full shape filled in by tulle and fabric and intricately twisting embroidery. the bodice laces tightly against his figure, two loose, swooping sleeves made of the same tulle and fabric as the skirt resting against his arms. “you think so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“yeah, it’s— it’s different, but it’s— nice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“you don’t look half bad yourself.” sapnap’s wearing a suit, crisp and put together compared to how dishevelled george looked. he’s still got his familiar bandana, though — dream doesn’t mind. it’d be weirder to see him without it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>something like pride flashes over sapnap’s face, and he grins again. “shit — you’re getting </span>
  <em>
    <span>married</span>
  </em>
  <span>, dream!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>dream can’t help the smile that spreads across his own face. “guess i am, huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>there isn’t really much for them to do, while they wait in the little dressing room. they chat — it’s nice, dream feels like they haven’t had time to catch up and just talk in a bit — part of dream isn’t sure if he would have talked to him otherwise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“dream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“why— why’d you choose me to be your best man?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>dream isn’t sure how he wants to answer this. it’s a bit cliche, but the wedding has made him think about — a lot of things. he’s never lied to himself, at the very least. (to others — often. more often than he likes to think about. but to himself? rarely.) “do you want the good answer or the honest one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>sapnap fiddles with the cuffs of his suit jacket, more pensive and hesitant than dream thinks he’s ever seen him. (sapnap is the reckless one. sapnap is the one that gets in stupid fights. sapnap is the one that needs to be held back. sapnap speaks his mind. sapnap doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>hesitate</span>
  </em>
  <span>.) “i—” and dream can almost see it, the events of the past few days running through his head— “i want the honest answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“honest?” dream plays with the end of a small sequin, shimmering softly in the masses of white fabric that surround him. “the honest answer is — i don’t think there was anyone else i </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>sapnap’s face twists in genuine confusion. “really? but — george, and punz, and — there’s probably more, that’s just off the top of my head, but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“you know you’re lying to yourself, sapnap. come on, now.” dream lets out a laugh, and he hopes it doesn’t escape him too bitterly. “punz? </span>
  <em>
    <span>george</span>
  </em>
  <span>? who are we kidding?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“that’s just sad, man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“oh, i know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>sapnap hums quietly to himself, tapping out a soft rhythm on the arm of his own chair, sitting opposite to dream. “if it makes you feel any better, i’m glad that it’s me. even if you only chose me because you had no other options.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>and it’s so small, really, so insignificant, when dream knows full well that there isn’t much he cares about (fundy is the exception to every rule he’s ever given himself and he doesn’t know how fundy does it) (and he doesn’t care about sapnap. not really. not the way that those closer to mortality do, deeply and hugely and prioritizing it with every fibre of their frighteningly human being. he’s a god, or the closest thing to it — and they are human, so very human. he doesn’t care the same way they do) but still. it’s reassuring, just a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“sometimes i wonder if i give you enough credit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>dream laughs, rolls his eyes. of course sapnap wasn’t listening. “nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“did i know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>fundy still isn’t fully used to it. this gray, ghostly version of his father, in a yellow sweater and red beanie he remembers far too well. but — well, if he’s being honest, even though he’d much rather have an alive father, this ghost version of wilbur is at least happy. he’ll take that, at least. small wins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“did i — did i know about this engagement? before i died?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>he can’t lie to a man that barely remembers his life. “no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“i didn’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“why— why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“you— you probably don’t remember this, but, we started to… grow apart. i was getting older, you were getting more passionate and involved with l’manberg, and then you got exiled with tommy and i was stuck with everyone else and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“i don’t like hearing about sad things, fundy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>fundy sighs. he knows. and sometimes his thoughts veer down a darker, meaner path — </span>
  <em>
    <span>what if he remembers. what if this whole time, he knew. what if he just wanted to escape the consequences. what if </span>
  </em>
  <span>— but he can’t. can’t let the thoughts stay for too long, or they’ll grow too big for him to believe that there can be honesty and goodness in people anymore. “i know you don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>wilbur hovers in the air for a bit, softly bobbing up and down without even realizing as he figures out what next to say. “dream </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>our enemy for the whole first war.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“yeah, that’s why i was worried to tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“do you love him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>the question comes so suddenly, so out of nowhere, that fundy startles, taken aback. “huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>wilbur looks towards him with those ghostly, empty eyes. “do you love him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>it’s true. he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“then that’s all i need to know.” wilbur smiles. “i hope you can be happy with him, fundy. my son.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“thanks.” fundy fiddles with the cuff of his suit. “do you, uh—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“uh.” fundy doesn’t know why he’s so nervous. maybe it’s because it’s his wedding day. maybe it’s because his father is a literal ghost, a shadow of what he used to be, even if what he used to be wasn’t always the greatest. maybe because he’s so afraid of anything going wrong, because if something goes wrong on today of all days he might end up alone. again. “do you want to walk me down the aisle?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“i mean — yeah, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> my dad and all, even if you’re. y’know. a ghost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“but,” and wilbur fiddles with a small crystal that fundy never seems to see him without, “why- why not phil?” he lets out a laugh, and it’s equal parts awkward and bittersweet. “he can, you know, actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>walk</span>
  </em>
  <span> you down the aisle!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>fundy can’t help the smile that spreads across his face, slow and soft, or the gentle roll of his eyes (because he is a fox, after all, what would he be without a little mischief), and he extends a hand that he knows ghost-wilbur won’t be able to grab, not the same way he once could, and he says, “well, why don’t you float me down the aisle, dad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>wilbur’s voice goes soft, softer than fundy thinks he’s ever heard it. “really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“yeah.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>he smiles. “i’d be glad to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>dream clears his throat; coughs a little. fumbles with his flashcards. he drops them. laughs. it’s an awkward laugh. reaches to pick them up</span>
  </em>
  <span>. um. </span>
  <em>
    <span>he drops them again. sighs.</span>
  </em>
  <span> okay. well. i — um. okay. i’m not that good at this </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughs nervously</span>
  </em>
  <span> so. sorry. i, uh. okay. i’ll just — start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>i — um. i had a whole speech and everything planned because i didn’t want to mess up and humiliate myself onstage</span>
  <em>
    <span> he laughs</span>
  </em>
  <span> but. but i just — the words. i didn’t write the words. well, i did but i didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>he laughs again</span>
  </em>
  <span> i .. wrote. them — but — but not as me? i wrote them as … as someone in love. and i wrote it in a way that was like — well. describing to someone what being in love is like. and i look at it now and i realize how silly it is. because — well. you love me. you already know what being in love is like. so … my vows. my … my vow. my promise, if you will. because that’s all a vow is — it’s — it’s just a promise. and i only have one. </span>
  <em>
    <span>he laughs again, more awkward, more nervous</span>
  </em>
  <span> i promise to try. always. and i may not be good at first. and i may not know how to be good at first. but … when i told you i love you, i agreed to you that i’d try. so here’s my official promise — to … to you. that i will. i will try. forever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>fundy’s favourite thing, he thinks, about the dress that dream picked out, and all the accessories and additions, is the veil that drapes delicately over his face. they tested it — opaque enough that the audience won’t be able to see, but translucent enough that fundy can. can see every nervous, open expression, every laugh, every freckle. it feels — special. exclusive. the way he laughs when he’s unsure, the dimple that grows on his left cheek with every smile. it’s just for him. like a secret whispered between them, sweet words exchanged between sweet lovers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>he loves him. (and for once, he’s sure he’s loved back.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>fundy looks and sounds confident. not overly so, but enough that it feels — reassuring. he doesn’t have flashcards. he looks right at dream. </span>
  </em>
  <span>on our first date, you were almost shocked by everything we did that day. you said that you’ve never felt more cared about. i hope i’ve been able to make you feel that cared about every day since. </span>
  <em>
    <span>fundy laughs when he’s nervous. he doesn’t laugh now. </span>
  </em>
  <span>at the end of the day, that’s — that’s all i can give you. i know! i know — there was the date, there was the movie, there was every date after, you can probably say i’ve given you a lot, but — i think that’s the only thing i’ve been able to give you that really felt like it mattered. care. what do you give to the man that has everything? </span>
  <em>
    <span>he laughs now, but it’s with himself, not at himself</span>
  </em>
  <span>. i’ve asked myself this a little too often, probably. but the answer, for me at least, has always just been a place to come home to at the end of the day. and my vow — my promise to you — is that i will never stop caring. no matter what happens, no matter what we might go through, i will never stop caring for you. i cared about you before, and i care about you now, and i will care about you after, and i will care for you for as many years as i’m on this earth. dream, i- </span>
  <em>
    <span>he can’t help it, he gets choked up, a tear falling from the corner of his eye</span>
  </em>
  <span> i care.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>for a wedding fic this had surprisingly little romantic content in it and honestly ? i'm really happy with it this way. if their wedding had happened within the canon of the smp i think - there is a lot that could have happened that would make Sense within the contexts of their characters. i had a lot of fun working with all the complexity in relationships and characterization they've built to create the most bittersweet wedding known to mankind</p><p>and i absolutely Have to give credit to mo, aka lovebomb on ao3 and @ohmellohi on twitter, for writing dream's vows. i think that's what sparked this entire wedding retcon. what i build fundy's vows around, what i used to figure out the characterization of everyone throughout this whole fic and even the tone. its just two paragraphs, but god are they two powerful paragraphs. thank you so much, my dear. you always enable me in the best of ways. here's to shared custody of this fic and so many fics in the future.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>